Bishop's Terrace - February 13, 2005

Depending on how you do it, Bishop's Terrace is a one, two, or
three pitch 5.8 at Church Bowl in the Valley. Don Reid, in his book
Yosemite Free Climbs, calls the route a "classic
test piece of 5.8 jamming." Chris MacNamara, in the
Yosemite Valley Free Climbs Supertopo calls it "one
of the best 5.8 hand cracks in the Valley".

I wouldn't have agreed the first time I climbed it. My
then-soon-to-be girlfriend Robin and I climbed it the first day we
met. It had been a few months since I had last been on rock, and she
was living in the Valley at the time, so she led the
route. Unfortunately, neither of us had any offwidth skills to speak
of, and the route does have a short offwidth section. That, coupled
with the late hour, made for a "mini-epic" (as we called
it), and we just didn't have a good time. It must have been a bonding
experience for us, though, because we've been together since.

I'd been feeling the urge to push my climbing limits for a while
when it occurred to me that I ought to go to the Valley and give the
route another go. Robin said that was fine - as long as I led the
route. In the meantime, I had noticed that both Reid and Roper show a
third pitch that leads up the the actual Bishop's Terrace. I decided
that I wanted to see this place that Reid calls "a novel
location".

Conditions were right for us to climb the route in mid February. As
it happened, that was the weekend before Valentine's Day, and what
better way for us to celebrate than by climbing a route that we did
the day we met?

The weather was a little chilly and unsure whether to be overcast
or to let the sun through as we headed over to Church Bowl. When we
arrived at the route, there was already a party on it; a testament to
its immense popularity. So we puttered around for a little while,
checking out other routes and just enjoying being there.

The route was finally
free and we headed to its base. I was loaded down with my cams, hexes,
and stoppers, and she was loaded down with our ropes and some water. I
tied in and headed up the start. The bottom of the route was a little
wet, but thanks to the other climbers, the opening holds were dry
enough, so I quickly got up into the initial finger crack. I had just
purchased a grey Alien and was rearing to place it, so I plugged it
in, even though it wasn't really necessary (hey, I like gear, what can
I say?). I climbed into the initial corner, placed a good stopper, and
traversed left over some nice face holds into the main corner. I
climbed this easy corner for a ways, stopping once or twice to throw
in a cam, until I reached the bottom of a mini-roof. At this point, it
almost seemed easier to bypass the roof on the right side, but I
recalled Robin pulling it on the left side when she led it many moons
before, so that's the way I went. After, of course, I placed another
cam.

Above, I climbed for a ways, put in a cam, and
then climbed some more until I found a spot that looked like it would
make for a good anchor setup. It seemed that all of my pieces were the
wrong size for the area, which might convince a lesser (errr, smarter)
mortal to move on, but I had plenty of gear and I'm creative, so I did
eventually rig a decent anchor.

Robin, gracefully as always, climbed up to my perch. She handed off
all the gear to me, gave me some water from her bottle and a kiss, and
sent me on my way into the business of this climb.

Pitch two, if that's the way you're doing it, is the reason
climbers flock to Bishop's Terrace. It starts out with a mellow crack
to a good stance, and then launches into a short, but fierce (for one
not used to such things) offwidth. Above that is an amazing double
crack system that leads to a beautiful perfect hands crack, and
finally into an easy handcrack to the anchors. This is where most
climbers stop and rappel.

Robin and I were going on to do the third pitch of the climb, but
first we had to make it through the second.

I easily cruised the moves to the stance, and unsteadily stood up,
almost falling in the process (it would be too much of a stretch to
even remotely imply that I have the balance and grace of a cat). I was
finally face to face with the offwidth. Before the climb when I was
racking up, I had thought that my #11 hex just might come in
handy. Well, as it turned out, it fit absolutely perfectly sideways as
high as I in the offwidth as I could reach.

Having made it through the wide section with minimal skin lossage, I
quickly moved up into the double crack system. The left crack was
perfect hands for me, and the right was a little smaller, so I stuck
with the left.

In my excitement at having grunted past the wide section, I didn't
think of placing any pro at all until I got to the top of the double
cracks. No problem, I was at a good stance. I tried a #1 Camalot. It
was a little too small, so I swapped it for a #2. That was
perfect. For good measure and since my last pro was the hex, I stuck
in another #2 just above. Then I moved up the perfect hands crack and
into the final slanting crack to the anchors where I let fly a quiet
whoop of triumph.

I quickly set up an anchor and called to Robin that she was on
belay. I couldn't see her from where I was, but I could tell when she
got to the offwidth. The rope stopped moving for a minute or so. It
started again, slowly at first. I heard a very feminine grunt from
down below, and the rope moved up some more. She called that she was
just past the wide section and she was just going to rest there a
bit. No problem. In short order, she started moving again, stemming
between the double cracks and then jamming her way up to me.

Once she was at the belay we swapped gear and traded war stories
about the previous pitch. After that interlude, I set off into the
"adventurous" final pitch. I call it adventurous because, as
far as I know, it isn't done all that often, neither of us had been on
it before, and we had only scoped out photos to get beta.

The initial traverse right onto a grassy hummock was easy, but I
set ample gear since it was a little exposed, and when I was learning
to lead, I was admonished to always protect the follower. At the end
of the traverse, I walked across the hummock to have a look at what I'd
be up against.

I knew there were two small corners with cracks in them that led up
to the left side of the Bishop's Terrace. They both looked pretty
easy, but the one on the right seemed to be a bit wider and have
fewer opportunities to place pro, so I chose the one on the left.

As I plugged my hand into the left crack, I felt all kinds of
oozing slime. Gotta love those not so popular pitches. Fortunately for
me, the slime ran out after about ten feet and the crack straightened
out enough that I was able to get some pro in. I climbed another ten
or fifteen feet, placed a cam, and then decided that that would be a
good time to traverse over to the right crack for the final few feet
to the terrace.

I stepped across on good holds into the right crack and almost lost
my balance when the handhold I was using turned out to be covered in
greenish goo. Having recovered, I climbed up the last few feet of the
right corner until I was even with the Terrace and I got my first
view of it.

The Bishop's Terrace is indeed a novel place. It's maybe 100 feet
wide and 25 feet deep. The floor slopes at about 30 degrees toward the
outside and the entire Terrace slopes down from West to East. There's
a large roof overhead that has about the same dimensions as the
floor. An A3 crack goes out the center of the roof and there are a few
climbs that start on the Terrace.

Since I wasn't expecting the floor to slope quite as dramatically,
I was taken aback at first. In a classic case of exaggeration, I
turned back to Robin, whom I could still see, and shouted, "This
must be the slab from hell!" She gave me the "so why don't
you come down then?" look. My second glance convinced me that it
wasn't nearly as bad as I thought so I hopped over the rim and onto
the Terrace.

I
placed a small cam at the lip and carefully started making my way
down. I looked at the Reid topo later and it showed a fixed piece
around there. I never did see one, so maybe I just wasn't looking in
the right place. I half walked, half downclimbed farther down the
Terrace, looking for some anchors that I'd heard were there, placing a
cam or two as I went. I found the anchors and clipped in. There was
also a random bolt about 10 feet to the left of the anchors in the
middle of the wall. I still have no idea what that's for. It isn't in
a place where it could be of any use to anyone climbing one of the
routes there. Maybe it's for protecting the traverse I had just
done. Who knows?

I set up an anchor and hollered to Robin that she could climb over
now. It was pretty difficult to hear around the left rim of the
Terrace, but eventually things got moving. She wisely stopped on the
hummock to bring up and flake out the rope she was trailing.

Encouraged by my earlier
warnings of doom, her face fell as she got her first look at the
Terrace. I explained to her that it really wasn't that bad, so she saw
the light, brightened up, and made her way over to where I was.

We pulled up the other rope and set up the rappel. Because that's
just the kind of girl she is, Robin volunteered to go first. She
rapped down, untangling the rope as she went. Fortunately for us, it
was just under 60 meters to the ground from there. She went off rappel
and I went on.

The rappel started slowly for me, what with the gentle angle and
the full weight of both 60 meter lines below me. Once I cleared the
edge, though, things speeded up. The remaining distance was covered in
a flash, and before I knew it, I was once again on Terra Firma. The
climb was over, and it was time to head to Degnan's for some
well-deserved sandwiches.